Friday, April 20, 2012

Rambling Man Pt. I





With lessons whittled
into the ground
of brown bag requests,
my aim flourishes
under faded lights.
Stealth tones make absence
an accent women throw
wishes at like dead metal
into a pond. There's time
to dream here
but no time for faith.
Faith makes a weak man
powerless. This sand saps
gods and fate from the souls
of men.

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